Noble Deeds of the World's Heroines

by Henry Charles Moore

A few minutes later, as she lay protecting her boy and gazing at the struggling mob, she saw the largest bridge sway, and almost instantly it collapsed and fell, with its struggling mass of human beings, into the icy river. For a few minutes the terrified shrieks of the drowning men and women were heard even amidst the noise of battle and the roaring of the wind; then they ceased.

It seemed to Madame Ladoinski that there was to be no end to the terrors of that day. She felt that she was going out of her mind, and prayed that she and her boy might die quickly.

Throughout the night Madame Ladoinski lay beside her boy in the snow. But she did not sleep a minute. The thunder of the enemy's artillery, the sound of the musketry, and the noise of the disordered mob of soldiers who fought like demons to get safely across the one remaining bridge, would have prevented almost anyone from sleeping.

When daylight came the Russians were so near that it was clear to Madame Ladoinski that unless she crossed the bridge immediately she would soon be a prisoner. Lifting her boy, and sheltering him as much as possible, she hurried towards the bridge, but two or three times, when the enemy's fire increased in severity, she took cover for a few minutes. At last she reached the bridge. The crowd was not now great, and it would have been possible for her to cross without any fear of her boy being crushed, but no sooner had they put their feet on the bridge when shouts of 'Go back, go back! Give yourselves up to the Russians,' burst from their comrades who had already crossed the river. Stupefied, the people fell back, and almost at the same moment the last bridge burst into flames. To prevent the Russians from pursuing them, the French had burnt the bridge and left hundreds of their fellow countrymen to fall into the hands of the enemy.

The Cossacks, who were first of the Russian army to reach the river, were more eager for plunder than slaughter, and Madame Ladoinski fled along the river bank with her child pressed to her bosom. She had no idea of what to do, and for a time she escaped molestation. Then she decided to make an attempt to struggle through the river. She knew that there was very little probability of her being able to reach the other side, but it would be better for her and her little son to die than to fall into the hands of the semi-savage Cossacks. Tying her boy to her, so that the fate of one might be the other's, she approached the water; but on the brink she was seized by a Russian. Terrified, she screamed for help, and it was fortunate that she did so, for the remnants of the Polish Lancers—last to cease fighting the Russians—were entering the river not many yards away, and Captain Ladoinski heard her cries. Calling to his men to come back, he urged his horse up the bank, and galloped along the riverside until he came to his wife and child. The Russian fled at the approach of the Polish Lancers, and Captain Ladoinski lifted his wife and child on to his horse without recognising them. Then quickly he put his horse to the river, and soon they were plunging through it with the water sometimes more than half over them, and musket balls lashing the river around them.

Madame Ladoinski had recognised her husband the instant he placed her before him on his horse, and, overcome with joy, she had swooned before she could utter a word. He remained quite unconscious of whom he had rescued until, in mid-stream, the shawl which had been over his wife's head and shoulders slipped and disclosed her face. Joy did not cause the Polish captain to lose his wits, but made him more careful of his precious burden. He had been in a reckless mood, courting death in fact, during the last quarter of an hour of the fight, but now he was anxious to live. It would indeed be sad, he thought, if now, when safety was almost reached, a shot should lay him, or still worse, his wife, low. But on through danger the brave horse struggled with his heavy load, and soon Captain Ladoinski was able to place his wife and son on dry land, and to give them the warmth and food which they sadly needed.

Then when Madame Ladoinski had recovered from the excitement of again meeting her husband, he told her that he had long since been assured that both she and their boy were dead. He, as the wagon-drivers had sworn, had been thrown out of the wagon for dead, but some of his men came along soon after, and seeing him lying in the snow dismounted to see if he were alive. Finding that his heart was beating, they set to work and restored him to consciousness, and then took him on to Smolensk, whence he sent back to enquire after his wife and child. The message that was brought to him was that his wife and child had been murdered on the road. Believing this to be true, he went on with his regiment—before they arrived at Smolensk—with henceforth only one aim in life—to avenge Poland's wrongs.

The story of Captain Ladoinski's extraordinary rescue of his own wife and child created some excitement among Napoleon's soldiers, dispirited though they were by the terrible march they had undergone, and numerous and hearty were the congratulations which husband and wife received. Prince Eugène was one of the first to congratulate them, and Captain Ladoinski seized the opportunity to express his deep gratitude to the prince for the kindness he had shown to his wife in her sorrow, a kindness that was all the more creditable because Prince Eugène knew that Madame Ladoinski was a member of a Royalist family and an enemy of the Napoleonic dynasty. For some considerable time after the terrible retreat from Moscow, Captain Ladoinski fought in Prince Eugène's army, but when, at last, the Prince's military career came to an end he retired into private life. He had long since come to the conclusion that his wife was right when she said that Napoleon never had any intention of setting Poland free, but had obtained the services of the brave Poles under false pretences.

Madame Ladoinski deserved years of happy domestic life after her fearful experiences with the French army, and it is pleasant to be able to say that she had them. Until death parted them, many years later, she and her husband enjoyed the happiness of a quiet life unclouded by domestic or political troubles.